I have to drop off some samples at the vet before going to the gym. There was a concern that one of the pups had contracted a different tick-borne disease in spite of being on the monthly Simparica Trio. Luckily, there was enough blood drawn to send some for further tests and the results are negative. Whew! He has dropped half a pound, probably because he doesn't like to eat when it's hot. And it's been hot. These pups relish the winter temps. Can't even imagine living in a place hotter and more humid than it is now!
The parking lot is crowded but the gym doesn't seem to be. I'm able to get on elliptical #2 and I'm very surprised that my cardio mileage is as good as it is. I seem to have adapted to the new eye drops since the HR is both higher and lower. The drops still make my eyes incredibly sensitive to all my other eye meds so I've decided to change the order I administer them. Instead of applying the Timoptic first, which then makes the rim of my eyelids burn when I use the brinzolomide (generic Azopt), I switch the order.
This way I can at least "enjoy" one set of drops before my eyes start complaining. The brinzolomide is a white suspension, akin to using White Out. Kidding. But not really. Pilocarpine is still last because it always feels like I've squirted myself in the eye with grapefruit juice. It physically causes the pupil to contract and restrict light. Wide open irises tend to show increased pressures, so night time IOPs tend to be higher.
I'm in the Aerobics Room but not alone. Men I've never seen before are there, each one stretching and doing planks by themselves. It's mid-afternoon by the time I leave to do a quick bit of grocery shopping. I'm already stressed by the news that my husband has been told to commute to JFK airport for all of next week. So, he'll be home instead of being in Boston, and driving each day.
His personality becomes horrible once he starts drinking. Every conversation, no matter what it's about, devolves into him accusing me of being evil and unpleasant. I texted him about our kid's upcoming wisdom teeth surgery and I got a monologue that ended in him accusing me of turning him in to the fascist state. WTF?! So I muted him. Today he'll behave like nothing ever happened, that he's never texted or said nasty, bitter things.
I can ignore him when it's long rambling text messages. It's harder to ignore him when he's stumbling through the house and I wonder what he's going to break, or if he'll fall down the stairs again and break something other than his hand. Which he's still going to physical therapy for, and that injury occurred last November. Because he was drunk. He hides tiny liquor bottles in his cargo pants, lies to me when I ask him if he's been drinking, burns godawful incense when I tell him I can smell it on him.
He thinks I can't tell when he slurs his words and his eyes get squinty. When he's loud and laughs weirdly. When he starts screaming "Kill him! Kill him!" and worse, at whatever he's streaming and starts pounding the desk and throwing things across the room. The dogs hide. I feel trapped in my own house, so I console myself by figuring out when I'm going to sell it and move far away.
I won't even tell him. Just leave with the dogs, if they're still alive. Probably after my kid graduates and is settled with a job and his own life. Because I cannot see living the rest of my life with him, with this anxiety and stress. He doesn't think he has a problem so he's not interested in changing. And I'm not interested in growing old like that.
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